


Winter Roses

by Marissaaaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, HP: EWE, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, Substance Abuse, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marissaaaa/pseuds/Marissaaaa
Summary: "Sod off, Potter! I'm not some pathetic damsel in distress. Not everyone needs a bloody fucking hero to save them," Pansy spat, looking up at him with beautiful smokey eyes. "I certainly don't needyou."





	1. Chapter 1

  


_Banner by the amazing **beyond the rain** at TDA!_

"That's an awful habit, Pans."

Pansy laughed, cold and devoid of emotion, not turning around to the voice she knew so well.

She placed her bright red lips on her cigarette again, inhaling in the nicotine deeply. She blew the smoke out with carefully pursed lips, watching the grey colored smoke drift away in the winter air. She ashed her lip stained cigarette and took another graceful drag.

"Don't call me that," she said, dark blue eyes watching the beautiful stars glitter across the night sky.

"Why?" He asked, his foot steps echoing across the hardwood floors.

His breath caught in his throat coming closer to her. Even as her face was turned away from, he could feel his heart speeding up, blood pumping through his veins, adrenaline coursing through his body, every moment more intensified and profound.

Pansy made Harry feel  _alive._

"Because I said so, Potter," Pansy scowled, flicking her cigarette off the balcony, wishing he would go away; wishing she would go away.

"How'd you find me?" She asked dryly, already knowing the answer. Harry Potter wasn't on his way to becoming Head Auror just for shits and giggles.

He ignored her instead.

"I know you have to be freezing," Harry said finally after a few moments, standing a few feet behind her now. His emerald eyes watching her pull out another cigarette from the pack sitting on the railing.

She was completely naked on that cold February night except for the expensive black heels on her feet. Her pale skin glowing under the moonlight, shapely legs that ran for my miles, long dark hair swaying in the crisp, chilly wind.

"You don't know anything about me," She laughed once more, dry and sad. She waited for the dark haired wizard to pluck her cigarette out of her mouth like he always did, but he didn't this time.

"I don't," Harry said honestly.

 _.He's always so fucking honest.'_  Pansy thought bitterly.

"But I want to know you."

"I wish you would stop this, Harry," she hissed, too tired to raise her voice, and finally turning around to face him. Pansy rarely called him by his first name.

She stood in front of him, naked and breathtaking, blue eyes frozen in a glare, cigarette dangling from her perfect manicure nails, pretty pale pink nipples erect from the cold weather.

His too gorgeous, too hopeful, too comforting emerald green eyes admiring her like she was the only women in the world.

"I can't," He said simply, running a hand through his messy black hair.

"I've been looking for you for over two days now. I understand you like your space that's why I didn't bother you for five days, but you wouldn't write back or call and you haven't shown up for work in a week," Harry rambled on nervously, his green eyes piercing into Pansy blue eyes.

Pansy smirked, inhaling the smoke off her cigarette, and blowing it out into the night. She really did enjoy making The Boy Who Lived squirm.

Harry waved the smoke out his face, biting his lip, knowing it drove Pansy mad.

Pansy's smirk fell, flicking her cigarette away, and crossing her arms over chest.

"I don't need you meddling in my affairs, Potter. Who do you think you are, anyway? Asking questions at my office and tracking down my whereabouts. We fucked a few times. You're nothing to me. Hell, I tried to give you to Voldemort myself. I just wish you'd stay the bloody fuck away from me," Pansy sneered harshly, turning her face away, and walking forward towards the railing.

She wished everyone would leave her alone.

Harry ignored her, trying not to let her icy words bother him.

"I was worried about you. Not just me either, Malfoy and Blaise haven't heard from you in awhile. No one has."

Pansy scoffed, placing her elbows on the railing, and her chin onto her right palm. Her dark hair fell over shoulders.

Now, all of sudden, people were worried and cared about her? She wanted to punch a wall.

She always forgot Draco and Harry were Auror partners. At twenty two years of age, her entire world was nothing like she imagined her life to be at sixteen. Everything was completely upside down.

"Yeah, tell them to fuck off, too," Pansy said, reaching for her cigarettes once more.

Everyone could sod off as far she was concerned.

Harry rolled his eyes, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She shrugged his cold hand off of her.

"Don't touch me. Potter, what the fuck more do I have to say to get you to leave?" She turned around, blowing out smoke in face, knowing he hated that.

She had to give him credit when it was due. Anyone else would have already left her by now.

Harry coughed, waving his hand to clear his face. "Bloody hell, Pansy! Why do you always have to be like this?"

_'Because I hate you and I hate Draco and Blaise and my disgrace of a fucking father and I hate my stupid, weak, pathetic mother for taking her own life.'_

Pansy never voiced these thoughts though.

"Because I am," She spat angrily, avoiding eye contact, and turning back around. "And if you have a problem with that, by all means,  _leave._ "

Harry ignored her comments once more, taking off his coat he wore over his Auror ropes and placing it over her shoulders.

He was dressed nice in expensive black slacks and a button down white shirt. He had discarded his tie earlier that day and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

"Just looking at you makes me cold," He said and she scoffed angrily, shrugging off his coat, letting it pool around her feet.

"Fuck you."

She wasn't cold, she wasn't anything at all. She felt numb to the core.

Harry didn't comment back, walking back into the hotel room to use the restroom, but stopping in mid stride, strolling over to Pansy's nightstand.

"Pansy, how the hell did you get ahold of muggle prescription pills?" Harry demands, scowling, snatching the two pill bottles up and walking back onto the balcony.

"Why don't you use your fancy Auror skills and find out yourself?" She asked sarcastically, flicking her cigarette off the balcony and turning around to face him.

She walked over to one of the balcony chairs and sat in it, pulling her knees to her chest, pursing her brightly red lips; anger consuming her mind.

"Fuck off, Potter! I'm not some pathetic damsel in distress. Not every one needs a bloody hero to save them," Pansy spat, glaring up at him with beautiful smokey eyes. "And I certainly don't need _you_."

"You know what," Harry shook his head, throwing the pill bottles at Pancy in disgust, "I'm over it. You can wither away in your sorrows and drown yourself in pills and firewhiskey for all I care."

With that, Harry Potter was gone with a snap.

Pansy could only laugh; dry and emotionless, the stinging behind her eyes almost unbearable, her heart clinching with hurt. She could feel the throbbing ache beneath her chest. The knot in her throat was hard and painful.

Everyone always left.

She was so sick and tired of people acting like they knew her... could understand her. As if they knew anything about what she was going through, what shehad been through. No one knew the screams that haunted her every day, the nightmares she had to suffer every night or the uncontrollable pain she felt.

Everyone after the War picked up the pieces and carried on with their happily ever after lifes, the scars of The Second War far behind them as they moved on with their families and careers.

Pansy had a whole twenty-two years of scars to heal from.

.

.

As early as Pansy could remember, she was taught to be a proper lady and a perfect Pureblood daughter.

Before she even knew her numbers and letters, Pansy knew proper table mannerisms, how to walk, talk, act and  _breathe_ Pureblood. She was not allowed to cut her hair or wear trousers. She had a different dress and footwear for each meal of the day. If her family dined outside, she wore gloves and a hat. She did not talk unless spoken too, she was meek, respectful, and obedient.

Pansy started school early, at the age four, and was tutored at home like most Pureblood families did before Hogwarts. Pansy knew three different languages by the age of seven, she was skilled in tap dancing and playing the piano. She even studied magic early, but that wasn't uncommon in Pureblood families.

Unfortunately, for her father, Pansy's mother was never able to conceive again. Thus, making Pansy an only child. Her father, Clifford, and grandfather as well, was always vocal about their disapproval of her gender, angry he would never have sons to pass down the family name. She nor her mother had ever been able to live that down.

To this day, Pansy had vague memories of her father and mother in her childhood before Hogwarts. Mostly because her father was never home and when he was, he was locked away in his office, away from her mother and her. The only time of the day she did see her father was during dinner. Even then, he excused himself and left the table early for his study.

And her mother, Margaret, was the epitome of high society Pureblood. She was tall, elegant, and poise. She held weekly tea parties and attended all the Pureblood events. Her mother was beautiful in a way Pansy had always been envious of.

Margaret was someone who should have never been a mother. Someone who only became a mother because it was her obligation. She had too; motherhood was her duty as a women and something pureblood women were shunned for if they chose otherwise. This fact alone was obvious throughout Pansy's childhood. Margaret never tended to Pansy; not as a baby, toddler, or child. She told Clifford from the beginning, she would not be changing diapers, feeding, or bathing an infant and she kept to her word.

While Pansy never had a nanny, she had a loyal house elf name Lolly who had taken care of her since she was a baby.

Lolly, who was a dainty cheerful elf with huge ears and even bigger smile, had changed her diapers, nursed her back to health when she was sick, and was her shoulder to cry on as a little girl. Lolly read her bedtime stories, played with Pansy, and was Pansy's everything when she had no one else. Aside from Lolly and her school tutor, Pansy was isolated most of her childhood. She had the occasional play date with Draco or Blaise, but her father had found it too unladylike for a young girl to be hanging around boys. So that left Pansy with Lolly, who became so much more than her loyal servant. She was her bestfriend and mother figure when Pansy didn't have one.

Pansy would never tell Hermione Granger, who she remembered had started S.P.E.W during their years at Hogwarts, how strongly she agreed with the curly haired witch. How Lolly was more than just a servant, or a house elf, she was a being with feelings and a heart. Instead, she mocked and teased Hermione on the outside, jealous how openly and proudly she could share her political and personal views, and safely tucked away one of Hermione's S.P.E.W buttons in the bottom of her truck under her robes.

"Pansy?"

Pansy shook her head as to rid her intrusive thoughts, her black curls swaying slightly. "What?"

"Your turn, doll," Daphne Greengrass said, her voice silky and smooth, pointing towards the table with a pretty manicure finger at two perfect white lines.

Pansy frowned, icy blue eyes narrowed, but took the rolled up hundred bill from Daphne anyway.

It was half past ten on a cold Thursday night. Pansy had slept most of the day away in her luxurious hotel bed and owled Daphne as soon as she woke up. She didn't want to admit it, but she was craving human interaction. And Daphne would never judge her or ask stupid questions.

"I'm not even going to ask why you have American money."

Daphne giggled, waving her hand in the air. "Long story."

Pansy positioned herself, sitting on her knees, looking up at Daphne who sat across from her. "Are you sure this isn't going to make me go crazy? I've heard what these muggle street drugs can do."

"It's cocaine, Pansy, not acid," Daphne snorted, flipping her straight blonde hair over her shoulder.

Pansy didn't respond. She clogged her left nostril and snorted the white power.

She snorted deepily, trying to get all of the stuff out of her nose. The drain was almost instant, making her mouth numb and tingle. Her pupils instantly dilated and she felt aware of everything.

"Are you alright?" Daphne questioned, arching a perfect blonde eyebrow.

"Perfect," Pansy said, almost giggling. She felt amazing like she was floating on air. All her negative thoughts gone and replaced with pure bliss. Nothing seemed to even matter.

"Here we are, four years out of Hogwarts, snorting muggle drugs."

Daphne threw her head back, laughing, the sound vibrating the room. "You've always been my partner in crime."

"I know," Pansy smirked, a mischievous spark in her blue eyes, feeling more talkative than she had felt in a long time.

 _'Must be the drugs.'_ She thought.

"Remember when we charmed Malfoy and Zabini's hair pink for a week straight?" Pansy asked, watching eagerly as Daphne laid out four more perfect white lines.

"Of course! How could I not?!" Daphne exclaimed, "They only cried about it for a whole year!"

Pansy laughed once more, reaching for her cigarette pack that sat on the coffee table. Normally, she would never smoke inside, but this was her hotel room, and she felt her ambitions lower with every minute.

How could she feel so empty and alive at the same time?

"I quit my job today," Pansy said out of the blue, surprising herself even. No matter how long her and Daphne had known each other, they had never confided with one another about personal subjects or feelings. It just wasn't their thing.

"Why?" Daphne asked curiously, finishing up her line, and passing the rolled up money to Pansy.

Pansy shrugged, "I needed a change, I guess; need some time away from... well, everybody," she confessed, snorting her line with more ease the second time around.

"Oy!" Pansy exclaimed, feeling the drain from the street drug. She quickly lit a cigarette, her bright red lips inhaling and taking a nice, smooth drag.

"Want one?" She asked, offering the pack to Daphne.

"Sure," she said, giggling, taking one. She lit the cigarette with some struggle, coughing slightly.

"Amateur," Pansy smirked, rolling her blue eyes.

"Oh sorry, we can't all be professional chain smokers," Daphne mocked and Pansy flicked her off.

Daphne leaned back in her chair, her long legs dangling over the side. She inhaled her cigarette, looking very much like a pin up barbie from one of those muggle magazines with her muggle blue jeans and leather jacket.

"I'm glad you came so quickly," Pansy remarked, letting out a trail of grey smoke from bright red lips.

She had been in a depressive daze the last few days. It felt like she was floating in between conscious and unconscious. She didn't feel anything, didn't eat, or talk to anyone. Pansy had felt lifeless, cold, and numb. If everything had ended for her right then, it wouldn't matter because she didn't have the energy in herself to care anymore.

"No problem," Daphne said, ashing her pink lip stained cigarette in the ashtray Pansy offered. Daphne wanted to state the obvious, but she refrained herself.

Pansy and Daphne finished their cigarettes, Pansy walking over to her purse that sat onto of the counter, grabbing out a bottle of Firewhiskey.

The room smelled strong of expensive perfume, cigarettes, and winter. Pansy had left the balcony doors open, allowing the cold air to drift by.

"Now, we're getting started!" Daphne shouted with glee, pulling out another two white lines for the both of them.

Pansy wanted to say no, that they had done enough for the night and should stick to drinking Firewhiskey. She wanted to say so much, but she couldn't find the words to speak. Nor did she find the strength to turn down Daphne when she offered her the rolled up hundred dollar bill.

Nothing made sense to Pansy anymore.

And that's how their night went on. The pair of witches partied together until the stars disappeared and the sun rose up bright and shining. Daphne had purchased her own hotel room for the night and bid Pansy a "good morning", promising to see her later that day.

Pansy stripped off all her clothes, feeling claustrophobic. Her mind was fuzzy and dazed, hair messy, and eye make-up smudged on her face. She stumbled out of her black dress, kicking off her heels, and collapsed onto her bed.

She sprawled out onto the middle of the white sheets, naked, and her dark hair covering her pillow.

The nightmares wouldn't happen tonight thankfully. She made sure her mind was too fucked and cloudy for the horrors to torment her that night.

No matter how hard she tried to muddle her intrusive, obsessive thoughts though, it still didn't stop Pansy from wishing she would stay asleep forever and never wake up.

That thought was always lingering in the back of her mind, calling out to her from the darkness, pulling her in more and more as the days passed by.

Blissful eternal sleep is all she wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

Pansy felt cold.

Bone chilling, goosebumps, to the core shivering cold.

Blinking tiredly, she raised herself up on her elbows, eyeing the source.

She had left her balcony door open all night, allowing the chilly air to breeze by all evening.

The sun was setting, hues of orange, pink, and blue set across the horizon. The temperature dropping every hour and the hum of the night life started to set in.

Pansy had slept the entire day away, curled up naked in her bed, hungover and sluggish from the night of partying before.

She had woken up a few times during the day, but she didn't have the energy in her to get out of bed so she closed her pretty eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness, trying to ignore her pestering thoughts.

Pansy swallowed down the thick knot in her throat, pulling on her black dress she had discarded the night before. She pulled her messy bedhead black hair into an elegant bun and eyed the Firewhiskey she left on the counter.

Bloody hell.

Pansy walked over, unscrewed the cap, and gulped down a large shot.

Her throat stung, chest burning, but at least it was something.

Pansy felt a sudden painful stinging behind her eyes. She blinked harshly for a few moments, long dark eyes lashes fluttering against her cheeks and it was soon gone.

Today had officially been a week.

A week since she had got that awful letter that reopened emotions she had buried away in her consciousness a long time ago.

She didn't care.

She  _shouldn't_ care.

Margaret Parkinson had been found hanging -graceful and beautiful like a porcelain fucking doll, Pansy assumed - from her chandelier, body swinging for over three hours before they discovered her with a fucking letter attached to her neck, a week ago today.

Of course, the letter was addressed to Pansy.

But why?! Why, after all these years, leave a pathetic good-bye letter, when Margaret couldn't even be bothered with Pansy at any point in her life.

Pansy's mother had never cared about anyone but herself. She had never wanted to be a mother, merely staying with her family because of society standards and blood purity. So when times became dark and Pansy's father dabbled more into dark magic and Lord Voldemort, finally recieving the Dark Mark, Margaret left.

She fucking  _left._

Margaret told Clifford that the Dark Mark had been the breaking point. That she would've stayed through his affairs, stoic attitude and manipulative behavior, but she would not surround herself with evil, as she called it.

For a cold hearted bitch like Margaret to realize the Dark Lord was evil spoke volumes.

Pansy was never told her mother left either. She came home for the holidays during her fifth year and her mother was gone.

_"Father?" Pansy asked politely, walking into his study._

_He barely spared her a glance_

_"Where's mother?"_

_Clifford looked up, dark eyes cold and emotionless._

_"She's gone, Pansy. She's a weak witch and even more pathetic mind. She's a disgrace. Now, run off. I'm busy."_

Why wasn't she ever good enough for her parents?

Pansy never saw or heard from her mother again.

Until a week ago.

With that pitiful, disgusting, bloody fucking letter.

It took everything in Pansy not to light it on fire and watch the flames consumed whatever the fuck her mother had to say to her.

_"Crucio!"_

_Pansy felt hot tears prickle the back of her eyes._

_The screams of torture from the Cruciatus curse were heard throughout the Manor._

_The sounds bounced off the walls, vibrating and intensifying with each second, hitting Pansy right in her core._

_She felt their pain with them._

_"You pathetic blood traitor, hiding filthy, dirty Mudbloods! How dare you cross our Dark Lord!"_

_That would be her father._

_"Crucio!"_

_She could smell the iron from blood that hung high in the air, lingering and sticking to the walls of her childhood home._

_Home._

_She bitterly laughed inwardly._

_She didn't have a home anymore, if she ever did._

_Pansy's heart and brain and body and spirit couldn't handle everything anymore._

_She grabbed a pillow from her bed, barely having time to catch herself before her knees collapsed underneath her as she sunk to the floor beside her bed, her long legs sprawled out under her as she shoved her face against the soft satin green pillowcase. She wrapped both her arms around the pillow tightly, clutching so hard her knuckles turned ghost white as her chest throbbed and ached with painful, heartbreaking hurt._

_She sobbed like she had never cried before, screaming until her lungs were raw and dry. She opened her mouth; a piercing helpless, agonizing, guilty cry for help as drool and snot and tears of a broken sixteen year old seeped into her pillow. Her shoulders shaking violently as she clenched the pillow tighter to silence her cries._

_Two more weeks. Two more weeks. Two more weeks._

_She kept chanting that to herself over and over as she cried harder with each second, the tortured screams still heard from downstairs._

_Only two more weeks and she would finally be back at Hogwarts._

_Away from blood and dark magic and torture and screams and destruction and evil and Voldemort._

_She would be safe._

_"Help me," Pansy cried out to no one, "Someone, please, help me."_

Pansy shook her head as to rid her bothersome memories, tossing the letter off to the side with disgust. She grabbed her black coat before walking outside for a cigarette, ignoring her irritating hunger pains.

How is it her mother beat her to it? She couldn't help but think bitterly.

She didn't want to think the word though much less say it or confront or even be aware she felt that way.

She tried to push the thought into the back of her mind, inhaling her cigarette, watching the grey color smoke drift away.

Before she even knew what she was doing, she was going inside to get dress and leaving the safe haven of her temporary home.

.

.

.

"Potter?" She called out once she regained her whereabouts.

'Good.' She thought, looking around at his familiar room, thankful he hadn't changed his privacy wards.

His room still looked the same as she remembered. Simple, clean, and a few personal items and photographs. The air smelled exactly like Harry... clean laundry, pine, and magic.

She barely heard his trained Auror steps as he opened the door to his room, face bemused before turning into a small smile.

"Pansy," he said, relieved, emerald eyes piercing into her soul as he walked foward to hug her, his tall frame towering over her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I was upset and angry. I regretted it the second I left. I've been worried about you and if anything happened to you..."

Pansy cut Harry off with a rough kiss, silencing him before he could continue.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers into his messy black hair. His glasses bumped into her face and she giggled as he took them off before returning back to her.

Harry grabbed her face, kissing her eagerly and passionately.

She made him feel so bloody fucking invincible and fearless and breathless and amazing. Harry felt like he could conquer the world, his senses heightened, and heart about to burst out of his chest.

Harry couldn't stay angry at Pansy if he tried.

Pansy heart was thumping through her chest, adrenaline coursing through mind and body, her mind going blank except for the one person in front of her.

_Harry._

The best part about being with Harry, nothing had to make sense. Nothing had to matter or be question or thought about... they just  _were._

She could forget about the entire world in his arms.

No matter how desperately she didn't want it to be true and how she would deny it until the end of time, Harry made her want to be _alive._

Pansy could not remember the last time she wanted to be alive.

Harry's hands trailed down her body, grabbing her bottom, lifting her up, and wrapping her legs around his waist. He trailed kisses down her neck, biting and sucking, backing her roughly into his bedroom wall.

Pansy moaned, grabbing his face, and bringing his lips back up to hers.

Everything else seemed so diminutive and insignificant in that moment between the two of them.


	3. Chapter 3

Pansy never stayed.

The action irked Harry to his very core.

She had never been affectionate women or sensitive or romantic.

Pansy was raw, broken, and  _real._

If Harry was being honest, he was still broken on the inside too.

Harry knew that about Pansy, but he still allowed himself to get caught up in her even if she didn't feel the same about him.

That's why Harry accepted, cherished, and devouredher while she was underneath him withering away in passion and ecstasy because when they were done - she was always gone.

So quick, so fast - like lightening, almost as if she wasn't there.

"Pansy, wait - "

Harry had broken their unspoken rountine despite knowing he was pushing his boundaries with the dark haired witch.

"Whatever it is can wait, Potter," Pansy said sharply, clasping her black bra, refusing to making eye contact with the The Chosen One - she always teased him about his various nicknames - everyone else could gravel and flustered themselves with Harry Potter, but Pansy refused.

Before Harry was the Wizarding World's savior, he was a geeky, awkward, gentle soul with infinite of possibilities

_(Until Harry didn't have a choice in his life. No say or argument._

_Just a pawn in a Wizarding War too toxic and evil and ahead of their time to even begin to comprehend._

_Did he know that fact? Pansy sometimes wondered._

_Did he curse and resent the fact that they were kids?_

_Pansy hated how alike they truly were)_

and Pansy didn't let Harry forget that fact.

"Why don't you stay?" Harry asked, propping himself up on his elbows as he watches Pansy pull on her dress. Harry knew he had work in the morning, but he didn't care. He just wanted more... more time with Pansy. If she would allow him.

Pansy finished dressing herself, putting her soft hair up in an elegant bun, her eyes on Harry with a stare of indifference.

Harry frowned.

Why did Pansy always have to be so cold?

A few moments passed before Pansy answered him, her pretty long eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. "Because I rather not spend the night with you."

A lie, of course.

Harry didn't need to know that.

Harry sighed, he had already known the answer before he even asked so why was he so disappointed? Why should he even care so much when Pansy clearly didn't care at all?

"Okay, forget I asked," He muttered, running a hand through his messy after sex hair.

Pansy rolled her eyes, not liking the disappointment in Harry's beautiful emerald eyes.

She always made someone disappointed.

"You're too soft, Potter. It's just sex."

Why did she always have to be so harsh?

Why did she always have to lie?

To herself, to everyone including Draco and Blaise, to _Harry._

Harry hated how he never knew what side of Pansy he would have when they were together.

How could she act like this when moments ago they were in pure bliss?

"It doesn't have to be just sex, Pansy," Harry said honesty.

Pansy hated the way Harry made her feel.

"I'll see you later, Potter."

She was gone before he could blink.

Harry groaned, frustrated, throwing himself back onto his pillows.

Pansy was a hard woman to love.

.

.

.

When Pansy arrived back to her hotel, she quickly went to her counter, her steps echoing as she reached her destination. She unscrewed the cap, taking a long gulp of Firewhiskey, enjoying the burn creeping down her throat.

Her heart was still beating against her ribcage with force she was foreign too.

Harry had never asked her to stay with him before. She had assumed he knew and respected their unspoken agreement.

Pansy didn't care about Harry Potter. She didn't. He was a warm body when there was no one else. Harry had been her fuck buddy - more or less - for the past four months and that was it. She wasn't going to stay the night or cuddle or kiss after sex. That wasn't her.

That wasn't them.

Pansy refused to allow that to happen.

Pushing Harry far from her thoughts and blaming their encounter on a moment of intense weakness on her part, Pansy took another large gulp of whiskey.

Pansy felt so fucking lost.

Looking around the room, her chest tightened.

She was so lonely, isolated, and abandoned.

She didn't have anyone.

_(Why couldn't she_

_disappear?_

_Seize to_

_e x i s t)_

Her heart started to ache again and she refused to give that fucking letter another glance.

Allowing her perfect facade to fade, she struggled not to break. Her eyes stung with unleashed tears as she tried to swallow the thick knot in her dry throat. She clenched her fists at her sides, her long manicure nails digging into her palms as she blinked her eyes harshly.

Pansy would not break. She would not crumble and fall into a million pieces. She was not broken.

_'I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay.'_

Pansy snapped her eyes open, biting her lip in misery before locating a small bag on her coffee table.

She walked closer, curious, and smirked when she realized the contents.

Daphne had left her drugs behind.

Pansy shrugged, picking up the drugs. 'How bad can it be? I survived last night.'

Before Pansy even had time to question her behavior, she was walking over to her kitchen counter and pouring out the white drug with indifference. Remembering the razor blade in her bathroom Daphne had used to seperate the lines, she went to retrieve it and a straw from her kitchen drawer. It wasn't rolled up money, but it would do.

Pansy seperated two long lines, closing her left nostril as she leaned down to snort the white power through her right nostril with a straw.

It was instant.

A rush of adrenaline, heart thumping, eyes dilated.

A wave of raw distraught came over Pansy.

She was alone, doing muggle drugs her friend left behind in a hotel that wasn't her home, feeling heartbroken and lost and sad.

Pansy did two more lines.

( _Anything to_

_take the_

_pain **away** )_

All she wanted to do was to escape her own reality.

.

.

.

Two hours later, Pansy found herself in downtown Muggle London in a infamous pub known for good drinks and even better music.

Or at least that's what some Muggle bartender told her. Pansy merely answered with, "Whiskey on ice, please."

The cocaine she had snorted earlier had given her a boost of energy. At least enough energy to take a shower, magically curl her dark hair, and put on a short black dress that showed off her long legs. She wore matching black high heels and a nice expensive black clutch that held her money, wand, and the rest of her Muggle drug.

Pansy had told herself to leave the cocaine at the hotel, but a little voice inside her head told her she would need it and she would be damned if her voice had hadn't been right.

Sitting her glass of whiskey on ice down, she hopped off the bar stool in search of the ladies room. Moving her way through a crowd of sweaty, dancing Muggles as the loud music thumped against her ears. She made her way into the restroom, anxiously searching for the largest stall as her heels clicked across the floor.

Cursing herself for not staying inside the comfort of her hotel, Pansy sat down on the toilet, digging into her clutch, and quickly poured out a little cocaine on her hotel keys before snorting it.

She could hear the sounds of giggles and cameras flashing from inside the restroom and she rolled her eyes. Pansy had chosen Muggle London because she didn't want to be bothered by anyone she knew, but she slowly but surely found herself growing more irritated by the minute.

Pansy thought drugs made you feel  _happy._

Pansy did three more bumps of cocaine, noticing her drug sack was almost nonexistent before washing her hands and exiting the woman's restroom.

She tried to ignore the little voice inside her head telling her she would need more drugs.

She made her way through the crowd of Muggles once more, unapologetically bumping shoulders with a few different women.

Typical Pansy.

Finally finding her seat along the bar, she sat down with grace only a Pureblood witch could do and picked up her glass of whiskey. She crossed her long legs as she sipped delicately, surveying her surroundings with smokey colored eyes.

It was around one thirty in the morning and she knew the pub had to close in a hour or so, but that didn't stop people from coming in with loud and obnoxious groups of friends - ready to party and forget.

Pansy swung her glass of whiskey back.

She would do anything to forget.

Turning herself back around to the bar, she called the bartender over, tipped him nicely and order another glass of whiskey on ice.

Pansy sat there, sipping her whiskey, listening to music and Muggles alike as she tried to drown out her intrusive thoughts.

_(Worthless,_

_Disgusting,_

_Cold hearted bitch,_

_No one loves_

_Y O U)_

She must have looked ridiculous and depressing sitting her drinking alcohol by herself, but as she glanced around the bar she noticed a few dark haired Muggles were alone as well.

Pansy didn't feel as pathetic.

Pansy finished up the second glass of whiskey with ease, feeling her cheeks flush hot. Her throat was dry and she felt a little disoriented. In fact, her whole body felt kind of warm. She had only two glasses.

She felt weird regardless.

Maybe Muggle liquor was stronger than she thought, Pansy didn't know and she decided not to dwell on it as she made her way outside for a cigarette.

The winter February air felt nice on her skin and the sounds of Muggle cars were more welcoming than the party noises from inside the pub.

Pansy reached into her clutch, blinking harshly a few times as her head started spinning and she felt dizzy and nauseous.

Damn. Those Muggles really didn't play around with their alcohol.

Pansy finally found her pack of cigarettes, pulling a cigarette out and lightening her fig with a shaky hand.

She bit her lip, trying to steady herself against the wall, her lip stained cigarette dangling between her thin fingers.

Everything started spinning.

Pansy breathe in and out a few times, her heart beating against her chest from the cocaine as her vision faded in and out.

Did the cocaine do this to her? She didn't remember feeling like this with Daphne.

Pansy tried to lift her cigarette to her lips, but her arm wouldn't work. Her muscles felt limp and clumsy.

"I -" Pansy tried to talk but nothing but incoherent gibberish was coming out.

Her dark eyes darted back and forth looking around for help, fear starting to creep up her spine as goosebumps spread out onto her pale skin from the chilly wind.

Something was  _wrong._

Very wrong.

How could she be so bloody fucking stupid?

What the fuck was wrong with her?

Pansy needed her wand. Now. She had to get her wand out of her clutch.

But Pansy couldn't move, she had no control of her body. Not even as her legs gave out underneath her and her knees hit the harsh gravel on the concrete, blood trickling down her legs. Her chest tightened with raw fear.

What was happening to her?

Pansy couldn't think straight she was so scared and frightened. She couldn't do anything without her wand.

_(Didn't you_

_ask for this?_

_No, no - not this_

_w a y)_

Her vision started to become more blurry, figures and shapes stretching and Pansy could barely make out the form in front her as she opened her mouth to scream Help but her lips stayed still and unmoving.

Her vision and consciousness was almost gone and Pansy tried to stay strong, tried to hold on - tried to fight the darkness.

_(Don't close_

_your damn eyes!_

_Use your bloody wand_

_how pathetic are_

_Y O U)_

The figure creped closer and closer to Pansy.

Heavy, loud, fear inducing footsteps crunching against the concrete were the last sound Pansy heard before her entire world went black.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaise Zabini was having a rough day. All he wanted to do was have a few drinks and head home. He had owled both Draco and Theo and was met with piss poor excuses; sleeping and working in the morning should not be as important as a drink with the boys.

Taking another sharp drag of his cigarette, Blaise flicked the cig to the concrete, and smashed it with his expensive shoe. Hearing a loud thud and smack not too far, Blaise narrowed his eyes and rounded the corner.

What the bloody fuck?

The lightning was horrible, but it didn't take bright lights to notice an unconscious woman and hooded figure.

Blaise was about to wirthdraw his wand from inside his pants pocket, but forgot he was in Muggle London. Cursing, he ran and shoved the man back from the unknown woman.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" Blaise didn't wait for an answer as pulled back his tan fist and broke the stranger's nose.

By this time, a crowd of strangers, bouncers, and managers had made their way outside. As the stranger held his bleeding nose, Blaise explained to one of the bouncers the situation and to call the police as he took the young woman to a hospital.

Cursing again as his knuckles started to throb, he made his way to the unconscious woman against the wall. All he had wanted was a drink and here he was playing hero like he was Potter or some shit.

Frowning, Blaise recognized the familar dark hair and long legs.

"Pansy?" Blaise asked, shaking her unconscious figure. She wasn't moving.

Panicking only slightly once he realized she had a pulse, Blaise scooped his childhood friend up in his arms, ignoring the crowd of Muggles as he walked around the corner to the back of the club and _Apparated._

.

.

.

"Granger!" Blaise yelled frantically, running into the front doors of the emergency room to St Mungos. It was late and it was a long shot, but he had recalled Draco grumbling how they had Hermione working a few overnights a week.

Pansy was still limp and unconscious in his arms and he was beginning to worry. What did they give to her?

By the grace of all fates, Hermione Granger rounded the corner with a clipboard in one hand and a coffee in the other.

"Granger!" Blaise exclaimed, his arms tiring from Pansy's dead weight and the curly hair witched looked up surprised.

"Zabini?" She asked worried, noticing her childhood bully in his arms. "What happened?"

As Blaise was explaining the situation, Granger had summoned a gurney and placed Pansy on top with her wand.

Before he could even blink, Granger had two Healers by her side and they were off down the hall.

 _'Fuck.'_ Blaise thought, finding a chair in the waiting room to sit in as he ran a hand through his dark hair.  _'I have to go tell Draco.'_

.

.

.

"Granger, I don't care what your boss said. I want to see her. Now move."

"Malfoy just because you're my significant other doesn't mean I won't have your arse removed. She needs to rest."

"Date rape drug? What kind of fucked shit do Muggles dabble in?"

"This is ridiculous. While you all argue like children, I'm going down to the Muggle police station to make sure this prat is arrested."

"Harry! Wait - "

Woken up by the noise, Pansy slowly opened her eyes, feeling like she had been hit by a Muggle car.

She blinked painfully, trying to clear the black spots from her eyes. The too bright lights were irritating and the smell of a sterile hospital was almost nauseating.

Where was she? What happened? She couldn't remember a damn thing.

The sound of the door opening interrupted Pansy from her thoughts as Draco, Blaise, and Hermione barreled into her room.

Hermione looked up surprised. "Good! You're awake sooner than expected." She didn't wait for an answer as she went by Pansy's bedside to adjust her IV and take her vitals.

"Pansy," Blaise said, exhausted and relieved.

It was around five am in the morning now and he stayed the entire time to make sure she was okay. It didn't help she had been avoiding him and Draco for weeks. He was worried. Hell, he had been worried about her and this had topped it off.

Draco stay silent, brooding in the corner with his arms crossed stiffly. He was bloody pissed and if the Muggle police weren't already involved, he would've hex that sorry piece of scum into his past life.

"What h-happened?" Pansy asked, her voice cracking as she slowly propped herself up on her elbows.

Hermione sighed sadly, grabbing Pansy's clipboard as she said, "In the most simple terms, a Muggle slipped a date rape drug into your drink."

Hermione let the realization sink into Pansy's shell-shocked face before she continued.

"You'll probably remember some moments before the drug had taken affect, but nothing afterwards. Pansy," Hermione placed a comforting hand on her arm, who shook it off admittedly. Hermione ignored her.

"Thankfully, Blaise was there when it happened. If he hadn't been there, I don't want to think about what could have happened, but let's not dwell on that right now, okay? I'm going to finish taking your vitals, get you on some more saline, and we're going to keep you overnight."

Pansy didn't answer Granger, she merely stared straight ahead. A date rape drug? Someone almostraped her? Someone had drugged her? Someone could have killed her?

_(Don't you want_

_to die though?)_

The panic crept up slowly, sinking it's teeth into Pansy's core and she tried to mask her horrified expression. She wasn't weak and she refused to be perceive as such.

Blaise sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he asked. "Are you alright, Pansy?"

The dark haired witch sneered, ignoring Hermione as she checked her heart rate and blood pressure, and meet his hazel eyes.

"Of course I'm alright and I'd be bloody fucking thankful if you lot would just leave."

Blaise rolled his eyes. He had known Pansy for years and this was how she was. This was her coping method with everything. If anything, she was showing him just how much she wasn't okay. He knew better than to push her though.

Draco, however, didn't give a shit.

"The bloody fuck? You're not alright. What the fuck where you doing in Muggle London by yourself anyway? We've been trying to contact you for weeks and the first news I hear is you're drugged in St Mungo's!"

Hermione, used to Draco's temper and emotions, scowled, motioning for Blaise to take him out of the room.

"Draco, the last thing Pansy needs is all this excitement. She needs to rest. You can yell all you want when she's home and better. Right now, you're distracting me from doing my job and I need you to leave," Hermione said sternly, no room for argument in her voice. He was lucky she had even allowed them in the room.

Draco sneered, "Whatever, Granger." Casting one last worried glare towards Pansy, he stormed out of the door with a tired Blaise on his heels.

Pansy, who has been frowning and looking down at her hands the entire time, looked up and sighed thankfully. It was quiet and all the questions were gone for now.

Or so she thought.

"Pansy," Hermione said seriously, picking up the clipboard again from off the counter. "Now that everyone is gone... I need to discuss the drugs we found in your system."

Pansy expression didn't change and Hermione continued.

"Along with the Muggle date rape drug, we found high amounts of anxiety medication and cocaine." Hermione set the clipboard back down, frowning as she observed Pansy in front of her.

"Listen, Pansy, I'm not going to say anything to anyone - doctor patient confidentiality, but I'm urging you to see someone and get help."

Pansy's icy expression never faltered.

"In the most blunt way, I'm recommending rehab and therapy for you."

At that, Pansy sneered, almost jerking her IV out of her arm. "That is the most stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, Granger. Brightest witch of our age - bullshit. One night of fun doesn't mean I'm a bloody drug addict."

Hermione chose not to mention that the drug levels in her system indicated more than a one night use.

"I gave you something to help you sleep in your IV. I have to do a few more rounds and I'll be back to check on you, okay?"

Hermione didn't wait for a response as she headed out the room, her footsteps echoing across the floor as she closed the door with a soft click. She couldn't help someone who didn't even want to help themselves.

Pansy didn't even blink.

.

.

.

Three days later, Pansy had locked herself up in her hotel room. The shock of her incident had finally worn off and she was left scared and frightened - afraid to go out by herself and it made her feel so weak and useless. She tried not to think how powerless she felt.

She had temporarily blocked all owls from entering into her room, she was in no mood to deal with pestering questions and statements of concern.

All she wanted to do was stay in bed, curled up in a ball with the blankets around her head. She felt warm and safe - away from everything and everyone.

She felt so lost and overwhelmed. In just a week, she had quit her job, been drugged, and her long lost mother killed herself.

She wanted to cry but no tears would come.

She was pushing everyone she loved away and she couldn't even find it in herself to care. Hell, she probably deserved the pain.

Pansy clenched the blanket around her body tighter. She was so fucked up in the head she couldn't decide what she was the most upset about.

Her mother and that stupid fucking letter had resurfaced emotions Pansy buried a long time ago. Pansy had shoved her feelings for her parents down the day her father died in the Second Wizarding War.

Relief is what she felt that day and she refused to feel anything more for her father or mother.

Until a week ago.

And then, she was drugged by a fucking Muggle.

Pansy closed her eyes tight; different thoughts and feelings and emotions all swirling at once.

She couldn't take it anymore.

Pansy flung the blankets off her roughly, her sock covered feet hitting the floor with a loud thud as she made her way over to the kitchen counter.

Right where she and Daphne had left it the night before - her cocaine.

The day after she was released from St Mungos, Pansy was so frustrated and exhausted, she wanted nothing more than to not feel. She called Daphne and explained everything - the blonde hair woman had been in her hotel room when Pansy arrived. She came with a party sack and a personal sack Pansy had requested.

Cutting out two white lines, Pansy quickly snorted them, enjoying the instant drain as she eyed the letter her mother left her.

The bloody fucking thing was taunting her.

With impulse only drugs could give her, she darted over to the parchment and opened it with trembling hands.

_Pansy,_

_If you're reading this, it means I'm gone from this world._

_I know you must have so many questions and thoughts and I'm afraid I might not have all the answers for you._

_I know you're angry and upset and you have every right to be because I feel those emotions too._

_I never should have been a mother, especially with your father. Pansy, he had always been dark, but I didn't know the extent of the darkness and I got scared and left._

_I regret every day leaving you with that bastard._

_I can only hope one day you will forgive me._

_\- Margaret_

Pansy screamed.

Loud, angry, heartbroken scream that rattled her very core.

Why did she have to open that damn letter? Why?!

Pansy should have known better. She should have known her mother would never understand, would never love her, even in her death she would never utter the words Pansy needed to hear. Her mother made everything about herself, even in her afterlife.

Did she not know the extent of the damage her father did to Pansy? Did she not understand the  _pain_ herself had caused Pansy by leaving and never seeing her again? Did she  _really_ not comprehend the heartache she caused Pansy throughout all these years?

And then to leave a piss poor suicide note as if it would make everything all better.

Pansy screamed until her throat was raw and her lungs were on fire, her fists clenched tightly at her sides as her nails dug into her palms. She started to bawl; hot angry tears poured out of her icy blue eyes as all the events and emotions from the past week caught up to her. Her shoulders shook as she crumbled to the ground, the letter clenched in her fist, her knees buckling underneath her as her heart pounded in her chest from the cocaine. She cried harder than she ever had in her life.

Pansy was starting to realize not every story ended with a happy ending.


End file.
